


food for thought?

by randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff without Plot, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 15:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21056999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13
Summary: recounting memories with what had been passed upon their mouth.spoilers: it's food.





	food for thought?

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer & Note:**
> 
>   * Good Omens is a novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman, adapted into a TV series by the BBC and Amazon Prime and directed by Douglas MacKinnon.
> 
>   * The author does not take any material profit by writing this fanfiction.

Aziraphale remembered well, every time he had meals with Crowley. From that particular crêpes together, to that time when they were sitting on the stairs, sharing a plate of fresh strawberries while watching Warlock play. He remembered Gabriel caught him sipping the very first wine human ever invented and he scrunched his nose distastefully.

_Defiling the vessel_, he remembered Gabriel mocked him. But he remembered earlier that Crowley had been so cheerful, telling stories about wine and bread, and an oldman and kids. How foods and beverages are endless human creation that would never cease to amaze him—them, both of them.

The first time he tasted the wine, Crowley was there. His snake eyes twinkling.

_C'mon, try it._

And Aziraphale had to doubt him<strike>self</strike> because encouragement from a demon was considered to be temptation. This was the same creature that tempted Adam and Eve to eat the Apple of Eden. The same creature who was responsible for humanity in the Earth now.

The humanity Aziraphale had grown to love.

He took a sip.

_It's nice, isn't it? He was going to gift some to his wife._

Crowley didn't look at him, he was staring wistfully at the old couple with their children and their grandchildren.

Children had always been Crowley's weakness. Aziraphale knew how much he mourned the kids he couldn't save, back when God decided to drown everyone. He remembered seeing Crowley, sitting alone in the big rock, bathing in the sunlight.

The rainbow looked like a halo upon his red hair.

But his face looked like the storm never ended.

Aziraphale was hesitant to approach, but he did anyway. When he was close enough, he saw what the demon was holding.

A crimson apple.

Half-eaten.

But the bite mark was too small for Crowley's teeth.

That day, when the ark had docked safely, the rainbow had arrived just as God promised, Noah and his family and the animals were praising the Lord for the clear sky—Aziraphale's heart sank.

It was like that moment when he planned out a nice dinner with the demon. Aziraphale would deny it, but he had been excited to eat at the new restaurant in the corner of the block. Crowley seemed an okay option to accompany him. He was quiet, a good listener, and he always gave the last dessert for him.

When he plucked out the bread to feed the ducks, he almost didn't see Crowley choked one of them with his own bread. Aziraphale rather liked the ducks, alive as they were. He, of course, tried his best to ignore that the rotisserie he had been thinking about, was anything but ducks (which in a way, it was correct). He also thought about the figs wrapped in bacon; a steamy, cream soup; gelato and coconut milk and clove and fresh pears—

The duck quacked away. Aziraphale rather liked Crowley too, alive as he was—the whole thing about fraternising be damned.

It was a box of sweet chocolate and roses in the bookshop opening. He remembered Crowley coming in, bearing his gifts. Congratulated him, even when he was actually late to do so. He remembered, it was in tartan tin box. In his most uninterested voice, Crowley said that he just happened to spot the chocolate tin and he saw the pattern, and why not?

But Aziraphale knew, the demon had been lurking around, counting to himself to say his thank you, for a favour he had never expected.

Aziraphale didn't need his thank you.

When Crowley laughed to his own joke about chocolate, old woman, and Gabriel; Aziraphale could not help himself.

He smiled. The chocolate tasted better in his tongue.

"What are you smiling at, angel?"

Aziraphale looked up, his hand stopped midway, spooning his angel cake.

"Foods," Aziraphale chuckled.

Crowley snorted. "Here, have mine, if you love it so much."

The demon pushed his plate. An identical piece of cake. With no cherry. Crowley had eaten the cherry.

"But, it's yours, my dear."

"You have it, angel." Crowley sipped his wine. "I'm not really into sweet things, myself."

"Crowley, you order it. And I have mine already."

"Just eat it, angel. We don't want the cake goes to waste. And I didn't order anything, it was the menu setup."

Aziraphale put down his spoon, then he plucked the cherry on his own cake. He offered it to the demon.

Miraculously, Crowley blushed. "W—wh—"

"The payment, my dear."

"I—"

"Crowley," Aziraphale batted his eyelashes. "please?"

Crowley cleared his throat awkwardly and accepted the offered fruit. He stucked it in his mouth, and Aziraphale was momentarily distracted by red, red, red, and red.

It was the dramatical lighting. It was Crowley's hair, the reflection of candle's flame on Crowley's glasses, the red of Crowley's hair, the fiery hair of his, the cherry on his pink, kissable lips—

_How good it tasted?_

"So sweet and so tart," Aziraphale murmured, then munching a spoonful of his cake.

_How good it felt?_

Crowley looked away, a hand on his jaw, supporting his flushed face.

Aziraphale reached out his fingers and latched them with the demon's. The demon didn't retract.

"How's your dessert?" Crowley grumbled, amidst his own embarrassment.

Aziraphale chewed thoughtfully, not answering for a little while. Crowley glanced sideways.

"It's nice." Aziraphale smiled. "This is really nice."

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> > _No, you. _
>> 
>> _But it’s so good. _
>> 
>> _No, it’s yours. _
>> 
>> How I finally put an end to it, plucked it
>> 
>> from the plate, and stuck it in my mouth.
>> 
>> How good it tasted: so sweet and so tart.
>> 
>> How good it felt: to want something and
>> 
>> pretend you don’t, and to get it anyway.
>> 
>> [—](http://poets.org/poem/july%20pic.twitter.com/NXBpE7spYN) [July, Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz](http://poets.org/poem/july%20pic.twitter.com/NXBpE7spYN)
> 
> Atsui just reminds me about the headcanon we made about Aziraphale being born in World Foods Day which is today, October 16th. And suddenly this happens. Happy birthday, gramps!
> 
> The poem was actually my own prompt for another challenge but since it didn't get written, I try to write it myself.
> 
> Feedbacks are welcomed! ❤


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